Bertie's reset
Refusing to go
It has come to my attention - chiefly through the Mrs. - that Bertie has “lost the room.” I reject this framing. This is not decline. This is a reset.
Yes, the fuel pump chose an inconvenient moment to expire - stranding us on an autoroute, limping ten kilometres in a cloud of self-denial. Yes, the smoke test revealed Bertie to be less a car, and more a colander in a blazer. And yes, the AC hose detonated in an underground carpark with the theatrical flair of a Bond villain’s lair. But these are precisely the sort of challenges that require calm leadership, clear priorities, and a strong sense of direction - ideally before the power steering fails again
This morning on the drive, flanked by Bertie, two oil-stained rags and a half-dead hydrangea, I delivered a keynote address. I said we must listen to users, owners, and, where absolutely necessary, the AA. I said we needed a new relationship with reality - one where reality occasionally blinks first. I pledged to go further and faster on reliability, while maintaining our red lines: Bertie must remain, he must not be traded in for a Volvo, and under no circumstances shall he require a push-start from neighbours over sixty.
The speech was, I am told, warmly received by those predisposed to receive it warmly, which is to say - me. The Mrs.’s contribution was to observe that the AC explosion had been, and I quote, “the first she’d heard of it.” A remark I have chosen to interpret as loyal support, though I concede I may have forgotten to mention it.
I stressed that the lesson of the recent difficulties is not that Bertie should be retired, but that the country - by which I mean the household - must understand the value of closer alignment with European motoring standards, especially if they are to help us get across the Channel without the sort of incident that tends to attract René waving a large repair bill, and muttering about les rosbifs.
Let me be clear: this is not a timetable for departure. It is a timetable for delivery. People ask, “What, exactly, is being delivered?” To which I say: Defeatism is not a strategy. Delivery is an attitude. Delivery is a tone. You do not resign over a failed distributor O-ring. You clean up, move on, and say nothing to the Mrs.
There is a clear, democratic process for consigning Bertie to history: someone has to buy him. And let me be absolutely clear - no one has yet presented me with a cheque, or even a suspiciously large brown envelope. The process has not been triggered.
I accept, of course, that there are concerns. Some say Bertie is too expensive to run. Some say he has become isolated from ordinary motorists. Some say he’s a rolling monument to poor life choices with leather seats. All of this, in a narrow, pedantic, and frankly unhelpful sense, is not entirely untrue. But I would remind critics that leadership is not about avoiding difficulties. It is about standing beside a large, unreliable heap, and insisting, with absolute sincerity, that the best is yet to come.
I have listened. I have reflected. I have reset. The ashtrays are clean, the wireless is tuned to Classic FM (none of that modern nonsense), and the timetable is clear: Bertie will go further and faster - provided he starts!